The eyes of a broken man. Desperate, exhausted, draught with the changing hands. He has cried many a day, perplexed by his own ways Suffering the insight, but in sight what he suffers from cant be in spite but despite he still tries. He still breathes, he still lives. Then he, is. Just left there to exist with no premise or passion, the promises daunted past traumas still haunting. It's hard for